


a star i long to touch

by secretsarenotforfree



Category: Cloak & Dagger (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Oral, Smut, Tyrone Johnson is a gentleman, and he's damn good at it, he's a giver, well guys idk what you want from me but like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 04:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsarenotforfree/pseuds/secretsarenotforfree
Summary: There was no truer devotion you could give than the unselfish dedication of eating out your girl, and Tyrone was more than ready to apply himself wholeheartedly to that task.





	a star i long to touch

**Author's Note:**

> ...so i know that this looks bad. because like 90% of my tyrandy (apparently the ship name is tnt but I REJECT it) fics are smutty but...there's a real lack of smut in this fandom. so im trying to do gods work here. If that god is aphrodite, i suppose.
> 
> this is mostly inspired by this tumblr post: https://voidedechoes.tumblr.com/post/187655572578 . its ty to a t and like...you know the boys good at it. just read the fic.
> 
> pls listen to asante + mari's 'excuse me' while you read!
> 
> title from 'meteor' by MAX. yes you guessed it, it's also on the playlist.

He wouldn't admit that he'd thought about it.

(But of _ course _Tyrone had. How could he not?)

Tandy was his best friend. The sharp bits to all of his too kind ones, the person he expected and wanted at his back, his favorite person to tease him and a damn good reason for a choir boy to fall from heaven. He'd never been pure, not really, no matter how hard he strives to be perfect, unblemished, sweet chocolate, trusted and unsuspicious, a palatable boy turning into a man that could do everything right. The man that maybe Billy could've turned into, if given more than fifteen years of chances. It was a heavy shadow, a painful weight, and it was only with Tandy's often reckless but always supportive pushing that Tyrone became confident enough to shake it off and finally stand tall. 

Letting himself be himself meant that parts of him that he'd so often unacknowledged or pushed down got to manifest themselves the way they'd always wanted to, in fathomless dark gazes and thoughts that danced under the drape of the night. They revelled in the stardust stirred up by Tandy's near crooked ways, shining through the twisted stained glass that made them who they were, only easy to see through when they were together.

So yes.

He'd thought about it.

He'd looked at his best friend, the person most important to him despite (and because of) it all, even when he'd had no place to, and wondered if her golden thighs were as silky as they looked. He'd gazed at the curves of her, the flare of her hips and ass, the slope of her shoulders, and imagined pressing his full lips to every inch of them. He still remembered the twine of their hands on that vast pale roof and clutched close ever since each memory of the pluck of her fingers on his cheek, the slap of a high five, the squish of his cheeks under her hands while Tyrone let her mess with his face, and took them all with the hope that someday they could evolve to a place past that.

(Mostly, in the dark and filthy parts of him, he dreamed of her taste, sweet and thick against his tongue, and burying his face inside her slick heat. There was no truer devotion you could give than the unselfish dedication of eating out your girl, and Tyrone was more than ready to apply himself wholeheartedly to that task.

Admittedly, he'd only done it about three (and a half) times before. There had been his first real girlfriend, before Evita, a hot and sticky fling at a mixed basketball camp over the summer, and though he had been attentive and enthusiastic there had been no real skill. He'd liked it though, and so Tyrone did what he always did when he wanted to learn more about something. He studied. He opened up some incognito tabs, ignored the overproduction of porn, and looked at diagrams. He identified the clit, and the pleasure centers, and the best ways to twist your tongue and fingers at the same time. Sure, it was all in theory, but when Evita had stayed the night after his big game loss, her shuddering cries, muffled into his pillow, told him he'd learned well.

So of course he wanted to give the same pleasure, and worlds more, to the girl who he no longer could live a life without.)

(It was the least he could do.)

And so Tyrone looked at his best friend, her so often lying words and mischievous honey eyes, and let his mind wander at the sliver of skin her shirt couldn't quite manage to cover. Let his gaze flicker for half a second on the dip in cleavage that her plum tank top did nothing but accentuate and his mind wander to if she'd smile like that when she was coming, or would her mouth make an O?

His lips wanted to ghost along the apple of her cheeks when she smiled.

His arms wanted to hold her close, to wrap her figure in his and his smoke, and snarl at those who'd wish to harm her.

His ears wanted to drink in the magic of her laughter and collect every sprinkle of stardust her altogether too rare moments of unburdened happiness.

(Tyrone wanted to _ cause _that happiness)

He couldn't quite say he believed in God, with all of the things he'd seen and done in this world, but he occasionally thought some deity somewhere was listening. They had to be, because it was only a powerful beings fickle fortune that led to where he was now, square palms and long fingers wrapped round his girlfriends hips, her body arched into his as Tyrone happily continued his mission to discover if time made Tandy's altogether too cute and pink mouth taste different.

He sucks on her bottom lip, drinks in the slight angle to the curve of her body into his as a result, and welcomes the return of her lips on his. Tandy's lavender body wash wafts from her hair and Tyrone's brain melts a little bit at how much he loves her. Loves _ this _ . Loves _ her on top of him _ and oh God, that slight grind of her hips has his mind unraveling.

(Nope. Still tastes like that spark of light in her, wet heat and a slightly bitter tang of sugar, possibly the only sweet thing about her.

Didn't mean he wasn't going to be thorough.)

Her arms tighten around his neck, knees squeezing a little along his hips at the trail of his touch under the too large t-shirt that at one point was his, and smiles out against his lips. "Ty," is all she croons out between the presses of his kisses, her halcyon fingers scratching the base of his neck, and he gives her a warm murmur in answer, wordless and content. Just how turned on he is by his girlfriend on top of him on the couch, all curling flaxen locks against his cheeks and greedy hands, is apparent and pressing against his jeans, undoubtedly felt against the crotch of her fabric shorts. "I still can't believe I didn't know you could kiss like this."

Tyrone won't lie. The compliment goes straight to his head. He flips them around, Tandy's legs gamely holding tight to him to keep her position, and sinks between her legs, cupping her cheek in his hand while he busies himself with making sure she still knew that fact. "Doesn't matter what you didn't know. You know now, right?" Mahogany biceps, thick and smooth, bracket her cute little growl as she pulls him closer with strong tan limbs.

Said growl hums through their lips and Tyrone wants to feel it vibrate through him. (God he's so gone for her.) "I do. And you know what it does to me." Tandy wriggles against him, a teasing temptress in sharp words and Daddy issues and Tyrone has to bite back a moan. One of her favorite things is pushing him until he caves in and does whatever naughty thing she wants to her, and tonight is no exception. To be fair, he's usually awfully easy to convince. 

Playing games with her and being hard to get, however, has become a part of this relationship dance between them, and he breaks from her (delicious, talented) mouth to start to dot little kisses along her jaw and beneath her ear. "I do?" Tyrone sucks lightly where he neck met her shoulders, a tiny light hickey that should fade by the time they were done. Tandy's fingers tighten, clasping the back of his head, and her hips buck once more when she catches her breath. She bruised much easier and darker than him, Tyrone had learned, but cared much less about who saw them. She was proud to wear his mark, she'd told him before, confidently sweeping back hair behind her ear to display his handiwork, because it made it even more clear to others who exactly _ he _belonged to as well. Sometime he worried that the suck of his mouth had been too harsh, too powerful for her velvet skin, but she'd never asked him to stop, had only encouraged. And there were many things he would do in order to draw those long moans from her lips.

The flush spreading up her neck flowers pink across her skin and Tyrone bites at the neckline of the tee she wore gently, nuzzling her collarbone, one hand stroking lightly right atop the elastic waist of her fabric shorts. "Yes, you do, Tyrone Johnson." She laughs a little, cut off by her tiny gasp at the run of his thumb against her inner thigh. The honey eyes he was always so content to gaze into squeeze shut, legs trembling for a moment when he did it again. "You going to find out?"

_ Oh, was he. _

The grin that shines altogether too sinfully up at Tandy brings that pink all the way up to her cheeks, a warning sign that her choir boy boyfriend was about to show her just how corrupting her could truly be, and dazedly, somewhere, Tandy thinks this the best kind of trouble she's ever been in. 

Tyrone, for his part, is just thrilled. And _ ravenous _.

Pushing up the overly long hem of the forest green shirt, he brushes his lips down her waist, kissing once at her belly button, and hooking thumbs into her shorts. "You ready for this, T?" They'd done other things, gone farther, but they hadn't done this before. He's since scooted down, black muscle tee and dark brown skin framed by her plush, heavy thighs, and a question lurks in endless eyes under raven brows. 

Tandy's top teeth find themselves buried in her lower lip but she nods, a strand of messy bangs falling into her eyes as she gazed at him with trust and smoldering heat. 

(With all the bullshit she'd gone through in life, it is a position Tyrone is proud and felled to have, to be trusted. To be embraced by her, to have her never doubt his intentions or heart for her. Though he always knows it to be true, this allegiance and dedication to this girl who'd turned his life upside down and yet settled it rightside up in all the ways he'd needed, he knew she sometimes wasn't sure if she'd blink and he'd fade from view. It was a rare emotion, flickering like a candle behind her gaze in the way she sometimes brushed a hand down his cheek, snuggled her face in the safe haven of his neck, whispering _ don't let me go _ behind his ear, arms looped tight around his waist, but he tries hard to lessen those times. 

Tandy deserved good things.

He was lucky he could be counted as one of them.)

Green light on, Tyrone was ready to go. 

Tugging lightly, he pulls the cream fabric down her legs, shorts dropped somewhere on the floor. Not a fancy girl, but still cute, it's a pair of black cheeky underwear that greets him next, and deep within him Tyrone can't help but feel a sort of smug possession at his color, near his smoke, protecting the most intimate part of her. It's hard to keep the shadows under control when he's with Tandy like this, their discovery long ago taking them from being unable to touch each other to being altogether too eager to have their powers mix. Speaking of his girl, she tugs needily on the top of his shirt and Ty can't help but oblige her, dragging it over his head and tossing it to presumably land somewhere close to her shorts (though neither of them are paying attention to the trajectory).

Darkforce flames, whispery and breezed, dance along the cords of his densely powerful shoulders and it makes an altogether too pretty picture held within Tandy's legs, long talented fingers drawing off his last barrier to nirvana. She's never seemed to care too much about how she was seen, ("if you're down there, you're already lucky so you've got no place to complain" she'd declared more than once), but she liked to keep it very short. Downy suntipped, could've been curls is what Tyrone nudges his face again, pressing teasing open mouthed kisses all over and her thighs, enjoying the shake of her legs. One of Tandy's hands is clutched tight on the blanket thrown on the back of the couch, the other tugging gently on his hair. "_ Ty, _" she whines, shivering when he gives an experimental suck on that ever so interesting bundle of nerves. His big palm spreads her legs a bit wider, legs across his shoulders, tickled and loved by the wraith like strands of his power.

"I like having you like this, Tan," he decides, deep voice rumbling across the heart of her, and after she catches her breath again she sticks her tongue out at him and curls him closer with the flex of her leg.

"Cool." The blonde gets out thickly, clearing her throat. "Great. Are you going to do something about it, or-?"

"Hmmm." He's staring at her, pink and flushed and very, very slick, begging for his attention, and gives an experimental long lick. 

"Ff_ ucck, _me," Tandy moans, words choked out through a suddenly dry throat, the muscles at the meet of her thigh and core taut, her focus dazed. Strands of short golden hair fall over her shoulders, still in his shirt, messily cut bangs hanging into her honey eyes, and when she looks at him Tyrone never wants it to end.

(He loves being her Ty.)

He also loves blowing a soft rush of air against her, feeling her shiver, and then brushing a long digit against her, seeking a place to sink into, knowing that the teasing was killing her. When he was younger, Ty had gazed mournfully at his slightly crooked middle finger, wanting it to be as straight as the rest of his calloused hands. As a young twenty something, he'd given thanks for it over and over for whatever was responsible for it. He goes one knuckle deep and she sighs out his name again, a softer smile than he normally ever got to see crossing her lips. "Ty, c'mon. Stop playing with me." Tandy tries to take him in deeper, clenching her inner muscles, but there isn't enough of him inside her to do that. Just the just-but-not-nearly-enough push and pull of one, than two knuckles in, and she's frustrated. She's horny. (He's ruined all other men for her. To be honest - what other men? She only knew and wanted Ty.) She'll finger fuck herself if he doesn't _ do _ something and put his money - well, to be honest, just his mouth, where his mouth was. " _ Do _something."

Saying he _ dove _ wouldn't be particularly accurate but he does remove the teasing finger and replace it with a thrusting and curling tongue, hands wrapped right around her legs. He's had little tastes of her before, licked off his fingers, messy on on her underwear and staining his jeans leg when her skirt is around her waist and her panties pushed aside, but this is different, this a _ meal _ and Tyrone is over the moon content to feast himself on her musky sweetness.

Tandy, for her part, is half there with him and half a mist of sensation and dizziness in her head, legs helplessly tightening and loosening around his face. Her moans are gentle and low, mixed with pants that are half breathy and half little prayers of his name. "_ Tyyyy. _" Tandy breathed, squeaking once when he fastens his lips around her bundle of nerves and sucks, sucks hard, combined with two fingers pushing deep inside her. "Oh fuck. Oh Jesus Christ, Tyrone," and her toes are scrunched on his back and his available hand has a firm grasp on her ass.

She is very aware of him, of _ that tongue _ , and _ that mouth _ , and _ those fingers _ , but it all feels so hot, so very, unlawfully good, and Tandy is nearing floating and she's sort of aware that this is building towards something. The little mews she's making are definitely not cool but Tyrone's very existence in her sphere brings her street cred to historic lows and she's more than okay with that if it's him. Two of his fingers crook inside of her, tapping up, and her back bows up, sweat dotting the lay of her spine from the heat he inspires in her, eyes squeezed tight together. A few more hard kisses to her clit, lovingly placed there with another stroke of the thumb along the crease of her inner thigh, and Tandy is _ done _, she crumbles to happy pieces while her orgasm rolls through her in a warm wave of pleasure. Little sparkles race under her skin, the soft glow that so often accompanied her coming, and it tickles against his hands.

She is blitzed on bliss, there still in Tyrone's arms, mind melted and brain floating, and he makes no attempt to hide the smug near smirk that appears on his face because _ fuck yeah, he's proud. _"Hey, Tan." His voice rolls velvet smooth and chocolate deep, pressing his lips to the side of her knee. "I did something about it."

Still kind of out of it, Tandy laughs lightly, and it's the kind of shining sort of magic that means more to him that her daggers and his smoke could ever mean. Because this was no fated fluke, no divine intervention, this was Tyrone showing his girlfriend how much he loved her, and he'd done a damn good job. For those few seconds her darkness and pain fell from her and he'd do everything in his earthly power to give her as many of those moments as he could. He could prop his head up on his head and drink in that pretty sight, gorgeous girlfriend relaxed and sated, his tempestuous, often violent, defensive girl in one of her most vulnerable states in perfect comfortability with him, forever. She's flushed pink and half sleepy, his Tandy, only in his shirt and legs still strewn on him, and God he loves her.

(He _ loves _ her)

"Fuck you, Tyrone Johnson." She smiles at him, tugging at his shoulders. "My arms are still dead. But c'mere. Let me show you how much you did."

More than gamely he does the work for her, dark muscles flexing as he wipes once at his mouth and stalks up her body back to her mouth, Tandy's hands cupping his face, and her musk still on his tongue. 

"Daily reminder. I love you, you pain in the ass." He reminds her against her mouth, and earns another laugh.

"I love you too." Comes back Tandy's whisper, almost shy, muffled by the slant of her lips on his, and he's content to luxuriate in the afterglow in his best friend and girlfriends arms.

So yeah, he'd thought about it.

(Doing it was a _ trillion _times more fun.)


End file.
